


Christmas Gifts

by scullymurphy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Books, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Divorced Draco Malfoy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gift Giving, Glasses, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rolled Sleeves and Glasses, Smut, cozy af, rolled sleeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullymurphy/pseuds/scullymurphy
Summary: Hermione snapped to attention, “Hullo, Malfoy, I believe I had this first,” she said sweetly, but with steel in her tone, tugging the book toward her as they both lifted it off the shelf.He didn’t let go.“Ahh, Granger,” he replied. “I think I actually cadged it by a half second. Seeker's reflexes, you know.” This said with a raised eyebrow and slight dip of his chin.Hermione tightened her grip, bracing herself against such weapons as charm and rakish eyebrows, butdamn ithe was gorgeous.“Granger?”She gave herself a mental shake, “Em, that tactic might work on the witches you mix with, Malfoy, but I’m quite certain that I was here first. And I need this book to finish my Christmas list. It goes home with me.” She tugged the book, and him, toward her.His eyebrows went up again, but he didn’t relinquish his grip. In fact, her pulled her closer.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 77
Kudos: 508
Collections: Best of DMHG, Finished, Strictly Dramione Christmas Fest 2019





	Christmas Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Written for Strictly Dramione Christmas Fest 2019 ~

Hermione Granger rushed in from the blustery cold to the cozy warmth of the bookshop. “Ahhh,” she leaned against the door and breathed in the scent of balsam candle and parchment, while scanning the shelves somewhat desperately for the object of her mission. 

After weeks of indecision, she had finally hit on the _perfect_ Christmas present for Molly Weasley - a beautifully illustrated book on magical gardening that had just been published to great acclaim and would fit Molly’s interests to a tee. The only problem was that the book’s popularity meant it was very hard to come by. Hermione had been to seven shops and floo-called six others all to no avail. But she’d been told there was one more here and she meant to have it, despite the fact that the cranky owner had refused to put it on hold for her. 

This was an important holiday for her at the Burrow, the first one she’d been invited back for after she and Ron had parted ways, and she wanted everything to be just so. Her gifts for every Weasley, their partners and children were wrapped and ready, and this was to be the icing on her Christmas cake. 

There! She spotted the book across the shop on a shelf labeled ‘Gift Ideas’, sitting in all its glory, lovely large format with a glossy black cover and beautiful gold text wrapped in continually unfolding flowers and twining vines. Hermione rushed across the store to claim her prize, satisfaction and relief washing over her as she reached out to grab it. 

She was so focused, she didn’t notice a tall figure rounding the corner of a freestanding bookcase as she approached, and she started in surprise as at the same moment her fingers brushed the tooled leather of the book’s cover, another set of fingers also closed over it. Her eyes darted up in dismay - and took in the handsome features of one Draco Malfoy.

 _Shiiiiite_.

Hermione snapped to attention, “Hullo, Malfoy, I believe I had this first,” she said sweetly, but with steel in her tone, tugging the book toward her as they both lifted it off the shelf. 

He didn’t let go. 

“Ahh, Granger,” he replied. “I think I actually cadged it by a half second. Seeker's reflexes, you know.” This said with a raised eyebrow and slight dip of his chin. 

Hermione tightened her grip, bracing herself against such weapons as charm and rakish eyebrows, but _damn it_ he was gorgeous. He’d certainly changed from the pale, pointed bully of their school days. He was now tall, elegant - described in the gossip rags as ‘the dashing former death-eater’. And she didn’t know if it was privilege, perfect bone structure, or always having the best of everything - but he had a _je ne sais quoi_ that made her unable to tear her eyes away from him.

She’d first noticed this when she’d worked with him on a project for the Ministry last year. They’d been on a short deadline that involved a lot of late meetings - at which Malfoy would don glasses and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirts, the combination of which was a particular kink of hers. She’d had to use exhaustion as an excuse to explain away a few instances of extended staring, which was embarrassing on several levels, not the least being that he was married - to the model-beautiful younger Greengrass sister, no less. Or had been married. She’d read the news of his divorce in the paper a few months ago - and guiltily followed the coverage of it since.

“Granger?” 

She gave herself a mental shake, “Em, that tactic might work on the witches you mix with, Malfoy, but I’m quite certain that I was here first. And I _need_ this book to finish my Christmas list. It goes home with me.” She tugged the book, and him, toward her. 

His eyebrows went up again, but he didn’t relinquish his grip. In fact, her pulled her closer. “But I _need_ the book too. My mother is the most difficult woman in the world to buy for and this is the ideal thing for her.” Deep grey glinted down at Hermione from very near proximity and she frowned in an attempt to ignore what that proximity was doing to her. “It seems we’re at an impasse, Granger. What shall we do?”

She suddenly felt very warm.

“I don’t know, Draco. What do you suggest?” Her voice came out low and throaty for some reason, making her words sound much more suggestive than she’d intended. 

His eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat. “All right, why don’t we … ah… flip a coin?” 

She gave him a skeptical look as his expression morphed into a lethal smile that had her suddenly worried _and_ excited.

“If I lose,” he said slowly, “I’ll relinquish my rightful hold on this book and dash my mother’s Christmas joy… but I get a condition.” He stepped even closer and intensified their eye contact. Hermione felt her breath quicken, very aware that they were separated only by the width of the slim volume. 

“Hmph.” She tried to disguise her flustered reaction with narrowed her eyes and pursed lips, and noticed his gaze flicker to her mouth.

He spoke softly. “If I lose, I’ll give you the book. But you go to dinner with me. _Right now_.” Hermione’s stomach fluttered. “And if I _win_ ,” his voice dropped to a low purr that turned the flutter into a slow flip. “I take the book for now, but will consider giving it to you _after_ dinner.” He accompanied the suggestion with a final tug toward him, which pulled them so close that she could feel the toes of his boots against hers. 

“So either way I go to dinner with you?” she murmured, unable to stop the corner of her mouth from lifting. 

He nodded once, holding her gaze. 

Hermione started to tell herself that she was just hungry and that he was more of a work acquaintance than a person she lusted over. Then she had a laugh at her inner voice. _Who was she kidding_? He was extremely attractive and the fact that he seemed to really want to take her out was highly gratifying. _Maybe he’d roll his sleeves up at some point_ … She inhaled and took one hand off the book to grasp his and shake it. “I accept your terms, Malfoy.” 

He smiled. “Got a galleon?” 

⁂

Draco looked across the booth at the lovely sight in front of him - Hermione Granger leaning back and delicately sipping a glass of white wine - and marveled at how his day had turned around. 

It had started rather shit, with him apparating around every bookshop in wizarding Britain looking for a gardening book that every other witch and wizard seemed to have already bought for their mum for Christmas. 

He’d been so _pleased_ when he’d hit on the idea of that bloody book for Narcissa. She already had everything and if asked what she wanted, unfailingly replied that she needed nothing. Yet, she’d be quietly hurt if he didn’t get her something. And this year in particular, he wanted to give her a bit of happiness. 

So when he’d found what seemed like the one copy of the thing left on the whole fucking island, he wasn’t about to let it go - until he saw who else wanted it. 

Still gazing at Granger, who was now chatting with the waiter, Draco laughed inwardly at the expression on her face when she’d realized it was him she was playing tug of war with in the bookshop - and marveled at how dark winged brows could make a scowl look charming.

He’d had a thing for her for years - probably since school, although he wouldn’t have admitted it then. But definitely since they’d worked together on a project at the ministry last year. At meetings she’d had this habit of stretching her arms high over her head and leaning back in her chair right as she made an incisive point. It displayed both her perfect breasts and sharp intelligence and he’d found it extremely distracting. He’d needed distraction desperately then too, from the breakdown of his sham of a marriage, which although welcome had also been extremely unpleasant.

And he was obviously still taken with her. An idea that was intriguing since, unlike last year, he was now free to act on it. _Fuck the book_ , he’d thought. He’d get it for Narcissa’s birthday. 

So now his day was looking up. He was ensconced in a candlelit booth at an Italian restaurant in muggle London with an intriguing woman. It was warm and romantic. She was all riotous curls, pert nose, determined chin, _and_ he was enjoying talking to her. Draco ordered his food then turned to his… _date?_ to resume their conversation. 

“So that’s how I ended up writing a book,” he said, finishing the answer to the question she’d asked before the waiter had arrived. 

“And why did you call it, ‘ _50 Reasons Why Blood Purity is Stupid’_?” She asked with a wry smile. 

“I wanted to reach kids who’d been brainwashed from a young age, but who might be questioning their beliefs for the first time.” She nodded. “Kids like me.” She snorted. “Exactly,” he chuckled, “Little shits. Who would see the title as a challenge and pick up the book so they could poke holes in its argument, but then maybe end up learning something.”

“That’s actually rather astute,” her lips lifted, “you clearly know your audience. Tell me more about your writing - what made you start?” 

He answered, giving her the medium length version of how he’d felt a growing need to keep others from the path he’d been forced down - to tell his story. He left out the parts about how it had killed whatever had been left of his marriage. _A conversation for another time, perhaps._

Right now he’d rather focus on the strong, almost physical, pull he felt toward her as she nodded along and made interested sounds. He wished the table weren’t between them. The light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks was fucking delightful - and her irises had golden flecks in them; why had he never noticed that before? The dent above her upper lip was as adorable as always, though. 

“How goes it in Magical Creatures?” he said, dragging his thoughts away from the carnal. The project they’d collaborated on had given him exposure to her role at the ministry and he _was_ genuinely interested in her advocacy work. 

“I’m working with the merpeople again,” she replied. “It’s another offshoot of Creature Wellness.”

He nodded at the reference to the project that had brought them together. “Phase two?” 

She nodded, “Of course, we had to pick the most irritable and inaccessible group to continue with. Not making it easy on ourselves.” She shook her head. “Remember Aerwyna?” 

He laughed, recalling the particularly tetchy merwoman they’d met last year. “How could I forget - I’m certain she tried to drown me,” he said, nodding his thanks to the waiter, who had just brought their bill. 

“Ahh, I actually think she liked you,” she chuckled, pulling the cheque toward her across the table. “I don’t speak a lot of mermish, but I distinctly recall her saying something about bringing you home with her!”

“I invited you, I’ll pay,” he said, pulling the bill back and sliding on his glasses. “And I guess it just slipped her mind that I couldn’t breathe under water?”

She giggled, “A common mistake, I suppose, and that’s fine as long as I pay next time.” Her eyes flew to his and she blushed as he felt a smirk steal over his face.

 _Next time, hmm?_ Draco felt a ripple of anticipation run through him. 

⁂

Hermione tried to bury her flustered feeling in gathering her bag, the carefully wrapped book (she’d won the coin toss handily) and her other parcels. _‘Next time’_ \- fuck! It had slipped out totally involuntarily. She blamed the wine. Draco didn’t seem particularly opposed to the idea though…

She stood to find him waiting to help her into her coat. Did his hands linger as he placed it over her shoulders? She made a real effort to collect herself then spun slowly to face him. He looked down at her, the candlelight gilding his hair. She sighed inwardly, _just gorgeous._ And he was still wearing his glasses...

Hermione’s trance was broken when the waiter brushed by, thanking them and wishing them a Happy Christmas. She started, looking down and around while Draco took her parcels, said their thank yous and goodbyes, then guided her ahead of him through the restaurant, placing his hand lightly on the small of her back as they exited into the night. 

A light snow had begun to fall as they strolled back towards Diagon Alley and the apparition point. The brisk air helped Hermione recover her bearings and they were chatting easily as they walked. Draco threw back his head and laughed at a crack of hers, and it made her think how rarely he had laughed when they were young. He’d sniggered and smirked, yes, but she’d never seen the real thing. And then, of course, there wasn’t much to laugh about for a few years. Him being so free with it now showed even more deeply how he’d changed. Also his smile happened to transform his face from merely handsome to devastating. Hermione glanced up at him. 

“What?” he looked down at her, laughter still present in his face. 

She chose her words carefully. “I was just thinking that it’s nice to see you looking happy. There were so many bad years. I’m glad we’ve all come out on the other side.” 

“Me too,” he replied, suddenly serious. He looked at her for a beat and her pulse sped, but then he turned away and they resumed walking. The night had grown cold and the streets were deserted. The weather must have driven everyone indoors to seek warm rooms and crackling fires. 

“Speaking of bad years, I’m certainly glad to put this one behind me.” He said, almost to himself. 

She frowned. His divorce, _of course_. “I’m so sorry about all that. I saw it in the papers. How are you doing?” 

“I’m ok. It was a long time coming. And a relief, really.” 

“Oh?” She didn’t want to pry, but she was curious. Their wedding had been such a big to-do, his wife so very beautiful. 

“Yeah,” he glanced down at her. “We married to please our families. And because that’s how it’s always been done. But,” he huffed a breath of cold air into the night, “one of us had changed quite a bit and the other … hadn’t. So it was doomed from the start. Didn’t mean it was a pleasant process, though - breaking it apart.” 

“Mmm,” she looked up at him with sympathy. “I was in the same place last year at this time. Ron and I weren’t married, but we may as well have been. And it was not at all pleasant, even if it was for the best.” She shook her head at the ground then looked up at him. He gave her a half smile. “Well. New year, new beginning?” She tried for brisk and bracing, smiling back at him as they reached the apparition point. 

“I certainly hope so,” he said, his voice and face thoughtful, his eyes rather intense on hers. 

Hermione swallowed. “Well here we are,” she said, rather stupidly. 

“Mmm hmm,” he murmured stepping closer to her. Her heart sped up again. “Listen, Hermione…” 

Just then another voice said ‘Hermione’ - rather loudly - from across the way. Hermione knew that voice. It was busy-body Helen from the filing department. _Fuck_. The last person she wanted to see right now.

She tamped down her irritation and turned. Ignoring Helen was not a viable strategy - she’d just get louder. “Hullo, Helen.” The woman was already bustling across the street, asking what Hermione was doing, which soon turned into oversharing about why Helen herself was out and prying not so subtly into who Draco was to Hermione. Helen obviously knew him from the papers and was a bit starstruck. 

Hermione was forced to introduce her and make small talk, which was rather excruciating - or would have been if Draco hadn’t kept shooting her funny little faces when Helen wasn’t looking. Hermione had to stifle a giggle at least twice. 

After a while it was clear Helen wasn’t going anywhere first. So out of desperation, Hermione said it was time for her to get home. It _was_ rather late and she wasn’t about to give the woman grist for the gossip mill. 

Draco added his intent to do the same, raising his eyebrows and grimacing at Hermione behind Helen’s back. 

“Very nice to meet you, Helen.” Draco politely shook the witch’s hand as she simpered. “And to see you, Hermione. Glad we ran into each other.” He followed this with another hand shake accompanied by a rather wicked smile and wink - then turned and disappeared with a crack. 

Hermione extricated herself from Helen’s over-personal questions and left as well, wondering very much how the night would have finished had she and Draco not been interrupted. 

⁂

The next day was a work day for Hermione - the last before she took off the two weeks around Christmas and New Year. And she was quite happy to have a break from the Wellness project to perform a short field assignment on the Isle of Skye, checking on reports of sightings of a Hebridean Black. 

She didn’t even mind that the sightings turned out to be bunk and that it was wet, windy and freezing. The trip had given her ample time to daydream about the night before - and wonder what it had all meant. Would she see him again? _Hopefully._ Did she want to? _Yes._ Maybe she should owl him after the holiday and ask him out… 

When she’d finished her investigation, Hermione decided to warm up at a tea shop in the tiny magical section of Portree before heading back to the mainland via her floo connection. She was just settling into her scone when her eye was caught by a small shelf of books for sale on the other side of the shop. She began cataloging the volumes mentally, unable to resist potential reading material, when she suddenly spotted a very familiar tall black spine with gold tooling in the center of the row.

She stood up and crossed the shop. _It couldn’t be_ ! She pulled it off the shelf - it bloody well _was_ a copy of the gardening book she’d won off Draco! She couldn’t believe it and snorted in surprise as she opened it. 

“I think it’s the last one in Britain,” the friendly witch who’d made her tea chimed in from behind the counter. 

Hermione looked up. “I think you’re right. And I’ll take it.” An intriguing idea was forming in her head and she meant to act on it.

⁂

Draco doused his office light with a muttered spell and stepped out into Knockturn Alley. He locked and warded the door carefully since he knew he wouldn’t be back for a few weeks. His consultancy would be shut well into January. He hoped to use the time to get started on his next book - and maybe pursue some … _personal_ interests. He felt a bemused smile spread over his face as he thought, again, about the night before. _What would have happened if that interfering woman hadn’t shown up?_

He’d have to find out. Soon. 

He set off, mentally composing his note asking Hermione out on another date, so intent on the wording that he almost missed walking right past the subject of his inner monologue. 

“Draco!” she exclaimed, putting a hand out to stop him.

He was momentarily confused between reality and his daydream. Also she was distractingly pretty in a red knit hat… “Hermione, what are you doing here?” _I was just thinking about you - all day long_. 

“I was… coming to see you!” A pretty flush spread over her cheeks and he felt his brows and the corners of his mouth go up. 

“Were, you?” He stepped closer.

“Yes, I, ah,” she rummaged in her bag, “have something for you! And I realized I have no idea where you live. But I do know where you work!” She glanced up with a look of triumph as she pulled out a large parcel. It was wrapped in black paper and twine and had a very familiar size and shape… 

“Is that…?” he started to ask, taking it from her outstretched hands. 

“Yes!” her smile was very bright. 

_Fucking adorable_. “You didn’t have to do that!” He was touched, but he really did want her to have the book. He’d already picked up some of Narcissa’s favorite perfume for tomorrow’s gift exchange. 

“No,” she laughed. “I found another one. In Scotland today. I had to go for a field assignment and there was this little tea shop slash bookshop and there it was, so I... thought it might be nice to…” 

Now he was truly fucking touched. “Hermione!” He stepped closer to her. He wanted to hug her or kiss her or … _no, he definitely wanted to kiss her_ . “That was so kind.” He felt his voice drop as he looked into her upturned face. Maybe he _should_ kiss her… But then someone brushed by them and he remembered they were in a public street. And she was Hermione Granger. And he was Draco Malfoy. 

Her eyes traveled past his shoulder and he knew her thoughts were the same. So he did the next best thing he could think of. 

“Are you busy right now? Want to go for a drink?”

“No.” She grinned. “And yes.” 

⁂

“So how does Hermione Granger have no plans on Christmas Eve?” He leaned back in his seat and Hermione’s eyes drifted to the long, elegant column of his neck. _Mmmmm_. 

She sat up, blinking. “Ah, well. My mum and dad are in Australia and my usual Christmas Eve spot has gained a new resident. She’s three months old and colicky, so her parents are too knackered for their usual soiree” 

“Harry and Ginny?” he asked, “I saw the announcement in the paper. Poor buggers.” 

“And what about you?” she drained her second cocktail. “Why doesn’t Draco Malfoy have somewhere to be tonight?” 

He looked down then back up with a wrinkled nose. “Ehh, I’m invited to my usual get-together. But it’s at Blaise and Daphne’s house. And despite him being my best friend, I don’t fancy seeing my ex in-laws this year.”

She grimaced. “Quite. I know that feeling. Last year I took a holiday to the Caribbean at Christmas rather than face not being comfortable - or invited.”

“Mmm,” his gaze drifted to hers, “how long has it been? Since you split? Astoria and I officially separated this year, but we have been worlds apart for much longer. Was it the same for you?” 

Hermione didn’t answer right away because the light was doing something very flattering to his face and hair and he’d taken off his jumper and rolled his sleeves not two minutes after they’d arrived at the pub. She felt like she was falling under an attraction spell - or maybe it was plain old sexual thrall. The cocktails probably weren’t hurting either. 

He tilted his head in a very charming gesture of inquiry that started her mind out of the gutter. Oh right, she was supposed to _respond_ to his question.

“Uh, yes. It was like that for me too. We drifted apart for the better part of the year before we split last Autumn. I think the only person it was a surprise for was Ron’s mum. She took a while to come round. Ron finding someone else has helped. But that’s why I want to give her that bloody book. I want to be invited back,” she huffed a laugh. 

“They’re lucky to have you,” he said, leaning toward her, his eyes suddenly very serious. 

Hermione looked down and then up at him through her lashes, “thanks.” The light grey deepened in response and she felt her pulse pick up. 

A taut silence stretched between them. Hermione opened her mouth to speak just as the waiter appeared and asked if they wanted another round. 

“One more?” Draco’s smile glinted at her. 

“Ok, one more,” she agreed. 

⁂

Draco congratulated himself on looking out Hermione’s address earlier in the day. It had given him an excuse to offer to walk her home from the pub.

After a short stroll in a very light snowfall, they approached the staircase leading to the small portico over her flat’s door. Draco walked her up the steps, hand on her elbow. Hermione pulled off her wooly gloves and rummaged in her handbag for her wand. 

Draco watched her dig for several moments. “What on earth have you got in there?” 

“Hmm?” she stopped rummaging and looked up, her brow creased in that adorable way that made him want to smooth it with his lips.

“Sounds like a bottomless pit,” he said with a raised brow, stepping a bit closer and peering into the brown leather square. 

“Hey, no peeking,” she laughed, her breath puffing in the frigid air and her eyes bright. Merlin _, but she was beautiful._

“Why? Do you have something to hide?” he said with a small smirk, stepping well into her personal space. Her laughter died and the hand holding her bag sank. They were so close he could feel the warmth from her body. She had stopped looking for her wand altogether and was just gazing up at him. He felt himself become very focused as he looked down at her. 

“You have a bit of snow. On your eyelash.” he said, lifting his hand and pulling off his soft leather gloves, slowly and deliberately, never taking his eyes off hers. 

He saw her swallow. His hand rose slowly and she closed her eyes as he brushed the pad of his thumb gently across the dark fringe of her lashes. Before she could open her eyes or speak, he turned the gesture turned into a caress, his fingers wrapping around to cup the side of her cheek and jaw. 

She inhaled deeply, lids fluttering. He lifted her chin and she let her head fall slightly back, opening her eyes again, desire radiating clearly in her hooded gaze. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed. 

And then he couldn’t resist any longer. 

At first the kiss was tender. A soft exchange of feather light touches. But then it deepened. He slid his hands from her face down her arms and around her waist to pull her closer. She dropped her things and her arms twined up around his neck, fingers sliding through the hair at his nape, causing him to shudder. He molded closer to her and she pressed against him. He directed a mental curse at winter coats and bulky jumpers. 

Their tongues touched, lightly at first and then feverishly. He pushed her against the door, stepping into her as her hands became rougher, pulling him against her. He broke away from her mouth to trail kisses over her throat and she sighed his name.

The sound sent a shot of pure pleasure straight to his groin and he went back to her luscious mouth, kissing her deeply before pulling away for a moment, then resting his forehead on hers and breathing heavily. “ _Gods_ , Hermione.” He pulled back and looked down at her. Her eyes were dark and her cheeks heavily flushed. 

“Accio wand,” she muttered, and it sprang to her hand. She pointed it at her door, uttering unlocking and unwarding spells, never breaking eye contact with him, which he found extremely arousing. 

The door sprang open and her eyes kindled. “Would you like to come in?” 

⁂

Hermione got the door open and stepped inside, pulling him behind her by the hand. Something about waiting or taking it slow flitted across her mind and she banished it ruthlessly. She wanted to do this. She wanted _him_ . _So badly_. 

Just then his hand on hers pirouetted her against the wall and he was kissing her again. Pushing into her with a delicious strength. He felt and smelled fucking incredible and for how long had she wanted to rake her fingers through that gorgeous hair? Probably since they were about 15, if she was being totally honest. 

His wicked mouth was doing sweet things to her lips, her jaw, her earlobe. And he was whispering - about how beautiful she was and how good she tasted. Hermione felt her knickers totally drench and suddenly she needed _out_ of all these clothes. 

She started struggling with the sleeves of her coat. He seemed to realize what she was doing because he pulled away and looked at her with singularly lethal smirk. Then he turned her and pulled the coat off her arms, lifting her hair as it came free and placing a series of hot kisses against her nape, his tongue caressing and his teeth nipping. She gasped sharply and arched into him. Her coat came totally away and his arm snaked around her, pulling her back tight against his front. His lips moved down her neck to her shoulder and he pushed her top down, trailing kisses across her heated skin. 

She was now almost out of her mind with want. She needed to see him. Feel him. She turned in his embrace and met his lips feverishly again, but then broke away and guided him to the nearest horizontal surface - her sitting room sofa. She muttered a spell to light the fire in front it, gratified to see that he was breathing heavily, his jaw set and his eyes glittering almost black. 

She pushed him down and he fell back against the cushions, gazing up at her in the light of the flickering flames from under lowered lids. She climbed slowly onto his lap, straddling him and pulling her top off as she went.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. His hands slid up her sides and came to rest, his thumbs flicking against her aching nipples. She moaned and gave an experimental little grind against him, feeling his hard length push against her in the most delicious way. “Fucking HELL,” he gasped, pulling her forward and yanking the lacy cup of her bra down. 

She thought he might take her breast in his mouth, but he just looked for a minute. Then his avid gaze flicked up to hers. “Do you know how _long_ I’ve admired these? Dreamt about them?” she snorted lightly and arched her back, pulling down the other cup. He groaned and she felt his cock jerk against her core. “The reality is even better,” he muttered, then said something in an even lower tone - she thought she caught the words, ‘certainly got what I wanted for Christmas’ as he moved forward to take an aching nipple between his lips. She giggled then sighed with pleasure, saying something silly about how he must have been a good boy. That was her last real thought for a while as he looked up and gave a wicked little smile in response to her comment then leaned in to tease her flesh until she was panting and gasping his name, ripping at his shirt and grinding against his cock with purpose _and_ abandon. 

His hands went to her hips and he gripped her as she rode him, throwing his head back and breathing heavily. The sight inflamed her and her hands went to his trousers, making quick work of the button and zip. She reached in to palm him and he gave a low moan - almost a growl - before suddenly surging up and flipping her on her back against the cushions. He was everywhere now - kissing and kneading, nipping and licking, his breath misting against her sensitive skin as he made quick work of what was left of her clothes. She met him at every turn, gasping for more. 

“You are absolutely ravishing,” he breathed against the skin of her belly, where he was trailing hot kisses. “I’ve fantasised about this. Thought about you. So many times.” 

“Yess,” she hissed, sliding her leg up over his back and shoulder, shifting to rub herself against him reaching down to guide him to her. 

The first feel of his cock against her entrance had her already bucking her hips and gasping. The feel of him sliding into her, _fuck he was perfect_ , filling her then setting up a delicious rythym had her almost undone before they started. But she managed to keep her focus, riding with him on wave after wave of pleasure. Digging her nails into the satin of his back. Hearing the ragged gasps and words of pleasure he breathed into her ear. 

They fit together so beautifully, and in some corner of her brain that wasn’t entirely given over to physical pleasure, she had the thought that there was nowhere she’d rather be than here in this moment, fucking this beautiful man. 

That thought was brief and directly followed by the most earth-shattering orgasm she’d ever experienced, echoed by his own release - which had him calling her name and then collapsing against her bonelessly. She came back to reality eventually, and began trailing her fingernails lightly up and down his back. He stretched into the caress with a little moan.

“Mmm that’s so nice.” 

She smiled against his shoulder and shifted out from under him, so that they were side by side and facing. His eyes were still closed, but he reached out and pulled her face to his, kissing her languidly. She accioed a blanket to cover them and burrowed into him. 

He broke from her lips and opened his eyes. Up close she saw that his light grey irises were ringed with dark slate. _Gorgeous_. 

“Do you know,” he said, the corner of his lovely mouth lifting, “this Christmas may rank _right up there_ with the year that I received my first racing broom?” 

Her eyes widened. He was shaking with silent laughter and leaned in to capture her lips as she started sputtering. She let him distract her for a bit before breaking away to muse, “hmm, you know, I think it’s actually _just_ shy of the one when Viktor Krum kissed me at the Yule Ball.” 

He looked at her for a beat before growling, “oh you’ll pay for that, witch,” then flipping her over and doing something that soon had her gasping with laughter and pleasure at the same time. Eventually they settled down and he went up on one elbow, looking down at her with warm eyes. 

“This actually has been a lovely Christmas so far,” she said softly, reaching up to brush his hair back from his forehead. 

“And we’ll both be the hero of our gift exchange tomorrow - each with our perfect books,” he smirked, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed against his mouth, her lips lifting. 

“Actually,” he pulled back, “what are you doing after your Christmas Day thing?” 

“Oh I don’t know,” she mused, “I’ll probably come home stuffed and half drunk, watch a film. Go to bed early.”

“Do you want company?” he asked, tracing a finger over her upper lip, “particularly, ahhh, for the bed part?” 

She snorted and shook her head. He lifted a brow. 

“I’d love that,” she smiled. 

~ _FIN_ ~

(and Merry Christmas!!!)

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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